


Red is Your Color

by Kacka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, monty pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 06:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6599776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Monty, drinking comes with unfortunate side-effects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red is Your Color

The first time it happens, Monty has only been in college for a week.

He’s never been a big drinker; his hometown is so small that any place in driving distance that served alcohol knows who is and isn’t of age, and his parents are a little too watchful for him to have gotten away with it under their roof. He was well-liked in high school, but not popular, so he didn’t get invited to many parties.

College presents a slew of new opportunities. Jasper, his new roommate, seems pretty cool, so when a girl he knows invites them to a party, Monty thinks he’ll have a good time. He sees it as his chance to learn something new about himself, about the world. That’s what college is for, right?

And to be fair, he does learn something about himself.

It doesn’t happen at the party but the morning after, when he wakes up with a dry mouth, his contacts still in, and wearing nothing but his underwear.

The most pressing thing is to get his contacts out before he decides it would be more beneficial to rip his eyeballs out of their sockets, but when he reaches with his right hand to his bedside table for his case, he hits wall instead.

He wrenches his eyes open, confused, and finds himself in Jasper’s bed, rather than his own.

And that’s when the near-nakedness becomes a big deal.

He swears and pulls his– Jasper’s– sheets up to his chin as he turns over. At least he seems to be alone in Jasper’s bed. Not that he doesn’t like Jasper, but Monty can already tell they’re too similar to date, and a one-night stand with his roommate could definitely make things awkward. Some tension inside him releases when he sees his roommate deep in a REM cycle on Monty’s bed, under the quilt Monty’s mom made for him.

He drops his contacts in the trashcan next to Jasper’s bed and dozes in and out of sleep until Jasper wakes them both up with a particularly loud snore a couple of hours later. 

“What was in that cup Raven handed me?” Jasper moans when he sees Monty is awake.

“Rocket fuel.”

“Feels like it.” 

He stretches when he yawns, seeming unsurprised that the wall is on a different side than it normally is.

“Why did we switch beds?” Monty asks. Jasper sits up, pausing in rubbing his face to look over at Monty.

“How clothed are you right now?” He says suspiciously.

“All the important stuff is covered,” Monty assures him. Jasper snorts.

“Yeah, it’s a little fuzzy for me, but toward the end of the night you started pulling at your shirt a lot? Your face was really red, and you kept complaining about being hot and then when we got back you started–”

“Stripping in the hallway,” Monty says, squeezing his eyes shut as it comes back to him.

“Because I wasn’t getting the door open fast enough,” Jasper nods. “And then you just collapsed against the wall. I got you as far as the nearest surface, which happened to be my bed, and passed out in yours.”

“Thanks.”

“What are roommates for?”

“Leaving me on the floor? Drawing a dick on my face? Not that I would have done either of those things to you, but I’m just saying. You had options.”

Jasper grins at him.

“I did leave your clothes out there, I think. By accident. So don’t be too grateful.”

Monty learns from this, his first drunken experience. He learns not to accept a drink from Raven Reyes without checking to see what specifically she mixed. He learns his tolerance. He learns that Jasper is a good friend. And he learns that alcohol tends to make him feel rather warm.

A couple of months later, after multiple nights that leave him overheated and less self-conscious than he usually is about his body, he decides to go to his most trusted source of information: the internet.

“Apparently it’s called Asian flush,” he tells Jasper, who is busy trying to compose a text to a girl he met at the gym.

“Is this a toilet joke?” 

“No,” Monty says, chucking a dirty t-shirt at his roommate to make him pay attention. “It’s me having some sort of metabolic deficiency that makes my face warm when I drink alcohol.”

Jasper looks up at this, squinting at Monty.

“Oh, yeah. I guess you do get kind of red. I just thought it was the lights.”

“Can you come explain this chemical equation to me?” Jasper settles in next to him, studying the Wiki page Monty pulled up.

“How did you even find this?”

“I googled ‘alcohol’ and ‘hot.’”

“And you didn’t get porn?”

“I got a lot of sites about menopause, but eventually I got here.”

Jasper walks him through what Wiki is saying, helps Monty understand as best he can, but in the end he knows mostly what he knew before: that drinking, for him, will come at the cost of a warm face and potential embarrassment.

It’s not too much of a burden. His friends tease him about it good-naturedly, the same way they tease Jasper about the facial hair he tries to grow, the way they tease Raven about her crappy bartending skills, the way they call Raven’s roommate ‘Princess,’ the way they tease the girl from Jasper’s gym, Octavia, about her affinity for the outdoors. 

Monty likes these friends of his. The girls are intense and a little scary, but if he were the type to plot for world domination or a high-stakes heist, this is who he’d what his team to be, no question. He trusts them to have his back, and that includes not letting him strip in public if he drinks too much. He also trusts them not to judge if he chooses to stay sober.

By senior year, Jasper has a girlfriend he’s serious enough about to want to move in with her. Luckily, Clarke is looking for a roomie. She’s been an RA for the past couple of years, her nickname shifting from ‘Princess’ to ‘Hall Mom’ after a few complaints about her rowdy residents. But two years was more than enough, and since O and Raven have settled into a comfortable pattern as roommates, she’s more than happy to get an apartment with Monty.

They celebrate at the end of move-in day by breaking out a bottle of wine.

“I guess this is something I should warn you about,” Monty says, glaring at the bottle as if it’s the wine’s fault. “You know how I have that alcohol flush syndrome?”

“Yeah,” Clarke giggles, poking Monty’s face. He can feel that his cheeks are rosy, but he’s only one glass in.

“Well– it’s not a symptom of that or anything, but– the more I drink, the more the rest of me feels… stifled. By clothing.”

“So when you get drunk, you undress,” she says, so matter-of-fact that Monty is sure Jasper has mentioned it before. “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to medical school next year. If anatomy makes me squirm, it’s best I start getting desensitized as soon as possible.”

“Glad I can help?”

“I mean, hopefully it won’t be a problem,” she shrugs. “But if it is, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

He hadn’t thought he was particularly worried, but it’s kind of a relief how much Clarke doesn’t make him feel awkward about the whole thing. Monty doesn’t get that drunk that often, and when he does wake up pantsless on their sofa, Clarke doesn’t seem to mind. She’s unflappable, and it both fascinates Monty and makes him grateful for her friendship.

It only becomes a problem after Octavia’s older brother enters the picture.

“I don’t want to hear any more about the sex you and Lincoln are having,” Clarke says immediately after Octavia slides into her chair at their library study table with a giddy look on her face. “I’m happy that you guys are happy, but I’m beginning to regret introducing you.”

“And as a thank you for that introduction, I promise I won’t give any unsolicited information,” Octavia grants, her mood too high to be brought down by Clarke’s grumpiness. Organic chemistry tests put Clarke in a bad emotional state, Monty has learned, and he keeps a pack of Sour Patch Kids in his bag for particularly low points. 

“But that’s not why I’m happy,” Octavia continues. “My dork brother just told me he’s transferring here next semester.”

“That’s awesome,” Monty says. 

He’s never met her brother but she talks about him all the time. Once, in their first semester at college, he found her curled up sadly in her room watching Spartacus because she missed her brother. Monty had climbed onto her bed and watched a few episodes with her, listening to her critique the historical inaccuracies her brother would be ranting about if he were there. He thinks of that afternoon as the real beginning of his friendship with Octavia, and he knows how much it means to her that her brother is going to be close.

“The one who told you Lincoln was too old for you?” Clarke grumbles, and Monty slides her the candy. She shoots him a look that’s half annoyance and half fondness, but that’s probably more of the latter than he would’ve gotten without the bribe.

“He’ll come around,” Octavia says, batting Clarke’s concerns away. “We haven’t lived in the same place since I was in high school. I’m not saying it wasn’t good for our relationship, him moving out of Mom’s house, but–”

“You’ve missed him,” Monty supplies. He feels the same way about Jasper already. It was easy to take him for granted when they were roommates and saw each other all the time, but now that he has to schedule time with his best friend, the time they spend together feels both weightier and bulkier, more important and less natural.

“Yeah.” She gives Monty a smaller smile, the kind he rarely sees on Octavia’s face. She’s so bright, it hurts to look at her sometimes. This soft glow is something precious.

“I’m happy for you, O,” Clarke says, the bag rustling as she wrestles it open. “But if I don’t pass this test, the million or so hours I’ve spent studying over the past four years is for nothing.”

Octavia rolls her eyes but pulls her books out of her bag and relents.

A few months later, Monty has almost forgotten about Octavia’s brother when she brings him out with her to meet her friends.

Monty and Jasper have been at the bar for about an hour by the time everyone else shows up. Whenever their group hangs out, the two of them like to arrive early and catch up, and it makes Monty feel like they’re still  _ them _ . Raven and Clarke show up next, bickering as they shuffle into the booth next to their friends.

“What’s going on?” Jasper asks with interest.

“Octavia’s dork brother is hot,” Raven announces. Jasper slumps in disappointment and Monty tries to be nonchalant about scoping the room.

“He’s by the bar,” Clarke tells him, and Monty can’t read her tone. She sounds either disappointed, confused, or angry. Possibly a combination of the three.

He keeps up his scan of the crowd until he sees Lincoln’s hulking form next to Octavia, the two of them chatting with two very attractive men Monty doesn’t know. One of them is very clearly Octavia’s brother, his arm slung around her shoulders and the same jawline, same smirk as she sticks her tongue out at him. Monty wonders if the other is his boyfriend.

“Huh,” he says, trying to be cool.

“Right?” Says Raven, rolling her eyes. “But he’s O’s brother, so–”

“So of course he’s hot,” Clarke says, petulant.

“I was going to say that probably makes him off-limits,” Raven says, studying Clarke with amusement. “But yeah, that too.”

Clarke stabs at her ice, and Monty really wishes he knew what was going on in her head.

“Hey guys,” Octavia chirps. “This is my brother Bellamy. Bell, this is Jasper and Monty. I told you about them, right?”

She squishes in next to Raven with enough room for Lincoln to wedge himself in beside her. That leaves the brother next to Clarke, a development about which she seems distraught. The other guy pulls a chair up to the end of the table, and Monty studies him out of the corner of his eye. He has a neat beard and broad shoulders and looks way out of Monty’s league. 

“They’ve come up once or twice in the past four years,” he says, smiling at his sister and nodding at Monty in greeting. “Not to mention they’re in half your pictures. You’re like my only Facebook friend, so I see literally everything you post.”

“You need a life,” Octavia says, but she sounds too happy to pull off her attempt at exasperation.

“I have one. I brought Miller, see?” He gestures to the as-yet silent bearded guy, who rolls his eyes.

“You could use more than one friend,” he tells Bellamy. “And your sister doesn’t count.”

“Good thing you’re here now,” says Monty, smiling a little when Miller catches his eye. Miller gives him half a smile in return and Monty misses the look of surprise that flits across Bellamy’s face.

“Yeah. We’ll teach you how to live,” Raven cuts in.

“Raven’s definition of a life well-lived is to have some mastery of pyrotechnics and to get kicked out of a lot of respectable establishments,” Clarke warns Bellamy. He smirks back at her and Monty thinks a picture is starting to form for him of what’s going on in Clarke’s head.

“What’s wrong with a little chaos?”

“That depends,” Clarke hums. “How attached are you to your eyebrows?”

“That was  _ one time _ ,” Raven protests.

“One incident,” Jasper corrects. “It was months before I stopped looking like a creepy alien.”

“Not sure that’ll ever go away,” Monty jokes, and Octavia clinks her glass with his. He catches Miller’s eye again, and his smile is still lopsided but it’s bigger this time.

“And you had a great story to go with it,” Bellamy says, and Raven raises her glass to him in thanks. To Clarke, he says, so low that Monty can barely hear, “Maybe while I’m getting lessons from my new Yoda, you’ll learn a little something too.”

Clarke scoffs but Monty, half a beer in, would swear he’s not the only one with a little pink in his cheeks.

“Bellamy seems cool,” he says on their walk home, testing the waters. Clarke is quiet, but the kind that Monty thinks will go somewhere.

“I was so prepared to not like him.”

“Really?”

Octavia gripes about her brother in the way that belies affection. He was always expecting Bellamy to be someone he got along with.

“Lincoln can’t hate him because he’s his girlfriend’s brother,” Clarke explains. “I was going to dislike him out of solidarity, you know? So he didn’t have to be bitter that Bellamy was so against him.”

“It seemed like they got along okay.”

“I know.” She sounds put-off. “And then he shows up looking like  _ that _ and being charming and great and not at all rude to Lincoln, and he just. He caught me off guard, is all.”

It doesn’t sound like that’s all to Monty, but he wraps an arm around Clarke’s shoulders for a couple of disjointed steps and doesn’t say anything. That night, as he’s searching for a cool spot on his pillow to undo the effects of his drink, he thinks that maybe Clarke Griffin isn’t so unflappable, after all.

Bellamy starts joining them at their Wednesday afternoon study group, at first because Octavia is there, and then, Monty thinks, because Clarke is. He never brings Miller, which Monty figures is for the best. The few occasions Miller has joined their group for dinner or drinks, Monty ends up distracted by his face and his arms and his hands. It’s not so bad his friends notice, but he thinks the library wouldn’t be half as productive for him if Miller were around.

His theory is proven by a decrease in Clarke’s productivity. She’s still not quite sure how to handle Bellamy, not quite sure what she thinks of him, is still a little too stubborn to let the reality of Bellamy override the villain she’d made him out to be in her mind. 

Bellamy, for his part, seems to find it hilarious. He looks delighted whenever she scowls at him and sometimes even winds her up to entertain himself. After a while, Clarke even seems to be at ease in this strange state of friendship she and Bellamy have. They continue to antagonize each other, but Monty knows that if anyone else raised a harsh word or a hand against one of them, the other would be the first to jump to their defense.

“Wow,” says Bellamy, sliding into his usual seat. It’s just Monty and Clarke in the library today, Clarke studying for the MCAT and Monty working on an extra credit project because he doesn’t have anything pressing due and he’s afraid if he leaves Clarke alone she’ll descend into madness. “Is she okay?”

Monty looks over at Clarke, whose forehead is pressed against her textbook as if she can learn through osmosis, and then back to Bellamy.

“She’s taking a mental health break, I think.”

“She can hear you,” Clarke snaps. Monty reaches into his bag and pulls out the jumbo-size bag of Sour Patch Kids he’d packed, offering it to her. She sighs, but pulls it toward her.

“You just had that on hand?” Bellamy asks, snagging one when she opens the bag.

“Don’t steal my Kids. They’re Monty’s way of telling me I’m being too much of an asshole.”

“I think that would technically be considered Sour Patch Kidnapping,” Bellamy points out. “And if someone’s going to have to tell you, they might as well say it with candy, right?”

“Ideally, no one would have to tell me.”

“Yeah, but in an ideal world you wouldn’t be this stressed about the MCAT,” Monty points out.

“True.”

“You know,” Bellamy begins, and something about his voice sounds off to Monty. Less sure than he normally is when he speaks. “If you’re looking for a way to unwind, my roommate and I are having some people over tonight. O and Lincoln are coming, and you guys could both join in,” he adds, looking to Monty.

“Sounds good to me,” he shrugs, trying to hide his smile, both because he’s trying to be cool about the opportunity to hang out with Miller and because nervous Bellamy is kind of cute.

“I don’t know,” Clarke hedges. Monty is certain she likes Bellamy now, but there still seems to be something holding her back. “I really need to study.”

“You need a break.”

“Monty’s right. You look like you could use a drink.” He goes to nudge Clarke’s knee with his under the table and bumps Monty’s on the way. “Come on, Princess.”

She bites the inside of her lip.

“What time should we be there?”

They had planned to grab dinner with Jasper anyway, so the three of them head over to Bellamy’s together after they eat, Clarke smiling softly as Jasper babbles. The smile widens when Bellamy opens the door and looks unabashedly excited to see them. To see her, really.

“You guys made it! Come on in.”

“Thanks,” Monty says, and the four of them stand kind of awkwardly in the entryway until Jasper clears his throat and gestures toward the kitchen..

“I’m gonna go get something to drink.”

“And I’m gonna go literally anywhere else,” Monty adds brightly, winking at Clarke when she gives him a dirty look. He doesn’t  _ mean _ to head straight for Miller, but the only empty spot in the living room is next to him on the couch and he’s joking around with Octavia, and who is Monty to argue with fate?

“Hi,” he says, smiling when Miller startles. “Jumpy?”

“Just used to people making noise when they walk. You know, like humans do.”

“Sorry. I must have forgotten to turn off stealth mode,” he says, feeling victorious when this gets the faint traces of a smile out of Miller.

“Monty!” Octavia crows, noticing him for the first time. She’d been a little distracted by the appearance of Lincoln with her drink, and rearranging so they’re sharing the love seat. “Good, you’re here. Tell Nate he’s wrong.”

“Who’s Nate?”

“I’m Nate,” Miller snorts. “Nathan Miller.”

“That makes a lot of sense.” Nate bites on his lip to keep his smile contained and Monty is averts his eyes. “What are you wrong about?”

“He said  _ Chamber of Secrets _ is the best Harry Potter book, when obviously it’s  _ Goblet of Fire. _ ”

“Oh,” Monty says instantly. “Yeah, you’re wrong.”

Octavia cheers and Nate looks slightly betrayed and slightly amused, until Monty turns to his friend and says, “And you’re wrong too.  _ Sorcerer’s Stone _ is clearly the winner.”

“Thank you,” Lincoln says, and holds his hand out for a high five. Octavia turns to bicker with him about it, leaving Nate to turn to Monty and say, “I’m not sure you really helped.”

“I wasn’t really trying to,” Monty grins. “But to your credit, the second book used to be my favorite, too. I mean, all the foreshadowing? Incredible.”

“What changed your mind?” Nate asks, turning so he’s facing Monty a little more. He looks genuinely like he’s ready to consider Monty’s argument, like this is a Very Serious topic of conversation. And Monty has always liked people who are unironically enthusiastic about and committed to their interests.

“I went to college,” Monty replies. “And suddenly I had a soft spot for a kid who felt out of place growing up but when he went to school, found this whole new world that could be his.”

“You relate?” 

“Sort of. Not like– I wasn’t abused, or anything as bad as the Dursleys. My parents love me, but– I wasn’t out in high school? I didn’t feel like I could tell them or anyone at school about that, and it’s–”

“It’s a big part of yourself to feel like you have to hide,” Nate finishes, nodding like he gets it.

“Exactly. I felt like people liked me, but they didn’t really know me.”

“And all your friends here know you’re– a wizard?”

“Yeah,” Monty laughs. “They’re aware. My parents still don’t, but whenever I decide to tell them, I know I’ll still have some kind of support group.”

“Coming out to my dad was really hard,” Nate says thoughtfully, and Monty’s heart does  _ not _ flip over in his chest at this revelation. “But looking back I think it was also hard when it felt like he didn’t know who I was.” He rubs a hand against his jaw and when he smiles at Monty this time, it’s closed-lipped and apologetic. “Sorry, I might need to have another drink before I can talk about this.”

“I get it.”

Nate stands and looks from Monty to the kitchen, and back.

“You want anything?”

“What are my options?”

“I’m not sure what we have left.”

“That’s cool,” Monty says, standing and ending up even closer to Nate than they had been on the couch. “I’ll come check it out myself.”

Nate switches back to talking about Harry Potter, which is fine with Monty. Monty has a lot of opinions about Harry Potter, and this is a party, after all. 

By the time they return to the living room, Clarke and Bellamy have taken over their seats, with his arm resting on the back of the couch behind her. It’s not quite touching her shoulders, but she’s pressed against his side and they look like they’re holding a real conversation instead of fighting. Clarke looks happy and it makes Monty feel warm inside, though that could be the rum in his drink.

The rest of the evening he spends talking with Nate, which is only natural. His other friends have paired off, except Jasper, who is normally Monty’s pair but gives him a knowing smirk when he pops by to let Monty know he’s leaving.

Monty knows that he has a couple more drinks, and that the flush in his cheeks is, in part, attributable to Nate’s proximity, to his laugh, to his ever-growing smile. He remembers making it his mission to pull a full smile from Nate by the end of the night, but whether he was successful– well, he doesn’t exactly remember the night’s end.

He wakes up flat on his stomach, a heavy blanket covering his unclothed body. He groans and pulls the covers over his chilly shoulders. He and Clarke usually keep the apartment pretty warm, so this is unusual for them.

“Morning,” someone says, and it’s a guy’s voice. Definitely not his roommate.

His first thought is that maybe Bellamy came home with them, or maybe he wound up at Jasper’s place somehow, but then the same voice says, “I brought you some painkillers,” and, yeah. He knows that voice.

It’s Nate’s voice.

His eyes snap open, protesting at the sunlight streaming through the window, and he finds that he’s still in Nate’s apartment. In someone’s bed. Nearly naked.

He groans again and sits, holding the blanket as high as he can as he roots around for his glasses. He’s become a lot more comfortable with his body through this unfortunate habit, but waking up like this in front of his crush is a whole lot different than waking up like this in front of Jasper or Clarke.

“What am I doing here?”

“You don’t remember?” Nate asks, chipper. His smile is full and beautiful and Monty is having trouble looking directly at him. This wasn’t how he wanted to achieve his goal.

“Not yet. But I have a few guesses.” He looks down at his legs under the blanket. He thinks he still has boxers on, so that’s something. Nate’s smile widens, if that’s even possible.

“I’d say it probably started when Octavia brought out the jello shots, which you probably had one or two too many of. And then Clarke came to tell you she was thinking about leaving, and you asked her if she was taking Bellamy with her–”

“No,” Monty moans, swearing and scrubbing a hand over his face.

“–and she kind of froze for a second, and Bellamy looked like he was about to wet himself, which was hilarious–”

“No, no, no.”

“–and then she kind of made up her mind and turned toward him and went, ‘I don’t know. Am I?’”

“Wait. What?”

“Then they left and I told you that you could crash here, so you started undressing–”

Monty swears again. Last night had started so well.

“–and came in here, I guess thinking that it was Bellamy’s room, and passed out.”

Monty pauses, looking around the room with newfound interest. 

“This is your room?”

“Yeah.”

Monty swears for a third time.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry. Where did you sleep?”

“In Bellamy’s room,” Nate shrugs. “I figure he owes you one, and you owe me one, and it was more comfortable than the couch, so–”

“I probably owe you more than one,” Monty says, taking the painkillers finally. Nate sits gingerly on the edge of his bed, past Monty’s feet.

“So buy me dinner,” he says, eyes trained carefully on Monty’s. Monty gulps, a shiver passing down his spine that has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the way Nate is looking at him.

“Really? Even after all–” He gestures at himself, still mostly hidden by Nate’s covers. “–this?”

“I’m pretty interested in all that,” Nate smirks, gesturing to all of Monty.

“Huh.”

“Yeah.” They’re quiet for a moment. “So–”

“Oh. Yes. Please. I would love to buy you dinner.”

“Cool,” Nate laughs, his smirk softening, and Monty wants to catalogue each of his smiles, wants to see them all and know what they mean. “Then it’s a date.”

Monty finds his clothes and Nate offers him cereal and coffee, which they’re eating together on the couch when Bellamy gets home sometime after noon.

“I’m not sure if I should say I’m sorry or you’re welcome.”

“Oh, I’m definitely grateful,” Bellamy says, more cheerful than Monty has ever seen him. “Clarke might appreciate an apology.”

“What, like ‘I’m sorry I accelerated the timeline for something that was already dragging on way too long,’ or more like ‘I’m sorry you got what you both clearly wanted’?” Nate asks, dry, and Bellamy swats at his head as he passes. 

“Don’t take friendship lessons from Miller,” he advises Monty, stopping short in the doorway of his room. “Did someone sleep in my bed last night?”

Nate cracks up, which gets Bellamy looking at them warily.

“You owed me one,” Monty says, as nonchalant as he can be despite his mischievous smile. Bellamy still seems uncertain, but he shrugs and closes his door to change. 

As soon as they’re alone, Nate leans over and presses his lips against Monty’s, dry and too quick for Monty to catch them. He runs his tongue over his lower lip and tastes sugar from the cereal they’ve been eating, blushing as Nate’s eyes follow the motion.

“Wanted to do that last night,” he shrugs, biting the inside of his lip. “But you were pretty far gone and it didn’t seem like the right time.”

Monty smiles and pulls him back in with a hand on the back of his neck. The kiss lingers, a little sloppy and a little stale and a little bit perfect as Nate’s fingers thread through Monty’s hair.

“That’s okay,” Monty says, pulling back. They’re sitting closer than they were before, which he’s not upset about. “I’d want to remember it anyway.”

This time it’s Nate who blushes.


End file.
